Despite my mother being a beautician, I have never cared about my own look. I usually walk around in shabby pants and crumpled shirt, wearing a hairstyle that would make Jawed Habeeb want to grab a rope and hang himself to death, so, today morning, when my mother asked me to trim my goddamn beard, I pretended to be deaf.

“You look like a goat. “She commented.

“……”

“Ugh..why don’t you look at the mirror? ”

“……”

“Civilized people at least try to look clean and handsome. ”

“……”

“I’m sure you never had a girlfriend. ”

Well, that hurt. I instantly grabbed a mirror and checked my face. The person in the mirror resembled a wanted terrorist. It seemed like my chin had started growing pubic hair.

My mother handed me the trimmer she’d purchased at a 60% off sale in Nepal. She still thinks we should have waited for the discount rate to drop to 70, even though my moustaches were already falling in my mouth every time I parted my lips by the time it was 50. My mother can throttle elephants if that gives her a 90% discount on Palazzo pants or eyeliners.

I snatched the pink colored trimmer from her hand and after giving it a scornful look, switched it on. When you have to cut your beard with a pink trimmer, you realize how worthless you are. When I saw it for the first time, I was 100% sure it was a women’s trimmer. I consulted the guy at the counter.

“Umm..it’s women’s, isn’t it? ”
My mother gawked at me in disbelief, and I realized I was not supposed to talk about women’s trimmer when she still thought Doremon was my favorite cartoon.

Ooops.

“No. It’s not. Women’s trimmer is like…”the guy at the counter thought for a moment, and said, “er..different. ”

“Would you show me some other color? “I asked. He pursed his lips for a moment, and then shook his head.

“All other colors have been sold out. “He said.

Two minutes later, we were walking out the door, my hands holding a plastic bag that had a pink Men’s trimmer inside.

“I don’t like pin…”

“Women’s trimmer? “My mother raised both her eyebrows at once. I never complained about the pink trimmer again.

I slid the switch and the device gurgled to life. My mother watched me like I was a curious thing. As I shaved, I wondered if on the other side of this rigorous process, there’s a better person waiting out there, the one who could have girlfriends and stun the world.

Change “geography graduates” to anything that makes some semblance of fucking sense. Because even if you were going for irony to illustrate your mother’s confusion, it’s too obtuse for people to get your point. If you meant to convey a mother’s judgmental gaze monitoring your personal grooming for quality control, say, “My mother watched me like a Nanni watches a spice vendor’s scale.” Or something.

Change “wannabe writer” to “writer.” You either are or you aren’t. It’s like being alive or pregnant.